


Lessons with Dr. Banner

by Batsox_2526



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Pepper Potts (brief), Thor (mentioned) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 20:44:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3910018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsox_2526/pseuds/Batsox_2526
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Told from Natasha's point of view, we explore the relationships she has with the guys in Avenger Tower and build a foundation for the Romanov/Banner relationship we see in AoU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons with Dr. Banner

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place sometime after CA2:WS and before AoU, the Avengers move into the tower and adjust to a SHIELD-free environment.  
> I wish I could have finished this before Age of Ultron was released, but alas, life gets in the way and I never intended it to be so long!
> 
> I own none of these fantastic Marvel Characters- but I do own my opinions and thoughts!

Natasha Romanoff wandered into the living room on her way to the kitchen and eyed Steven Rogers lying on his stomach, draped across the couch seat with his face and right arm hanging off the side. She smiled a sad smile as she passed through to the kitchen.  
“What’s up with Rogers?” she asked Bruce Banner. “It’s not like him to pass out in a public place.” She air-quoted “public place” on her way to the fridge.  
“Not sure. He has been kind of down, and a little off lately.”  
Natasha poured two glasses of juice, one for Steve. “Maybe I’ll milk it out of him then…or rather juice, if you acknowledge the pun.” She smiled and saluted Banner with a glass of juice, casually.  
“Don’t let Stark hear you talking like that, or you’ll get more than a pun,” he raised his voice as she walked toward the living room again. Natasha escaped just in time to hear Tony chime in, “Someone call me?” from the kitchen. 

“Captain Rogers, it is time to stop hogging the good sofa.” Natasha set down the glasses of juice on the coffee table. “Steve?” She gave him a nudge with her hip as she settled uncomfortably on the edge of the couch. “Rooooogers.” She tried to find a pulse in his wrist but it was too sinewy and thick to detect a pulse. Natasha leaned parallel over his body to check for breathing from his open mouth. “Oh super soldier…” she sang at him, teasingly.  
He abruptly spun his body around, and in an instant her throat was in his left hand, being very firmly held and extremely close to his face. Romanoff was taken by surprise- an odd occurrence- and took a quick moment to compose herself before his grip began to tighten. It was important to remain calm in the uncomfortable death grip of Steve’s super soldier strength. Natasha kissed the tip of Steve’s nose and reached up to caress his wrist with her fingertips. “Rise and shine, roomie,” she managed to choke out as he cut off her air supply. Finally, she gently rested a hand on his cheek.  
His eyes fluttered open and he stared into her eyes for a moment, not fully understanding the scenario until she tapped a finger on his wrist. His jaw dropped and he loosened his hold on her throat, causing her to fall against him and gasp for some much-needed air.  
“Note to self- get Banner to wake Steve up next time he falls asleep on the sofa,” she smiled while rubbing her darkening throat and catching her breath. His finger marks were already starting to show up.  
“Natasha,” Steve sat up abruptly, “I’m-“.  
“Not in the mood for juice?” She smirked and gestured to his glass on the coffee table and took a sip off hers. He stared at her a minute and leaned forward to pick up his juice.  
“Thanks.”  
“You’re welcome.” There was an awkward silence between the two while they drank their juice, thinking about what to say to each other. “Well Rogers, between you and me, I think you might want to lay off the late night horror flicks.” She smirked and took their juice glasses to the kitchen on her way to the shower.  
________________  
Natasha examined her neck in the bathroom mirror while the water ran to warm in the shower. There were four clear finger marks on the right side of her throat and one oblong oval where his thumb had been on the left. She wondered if the marks would cover with her makeup so he wouldn't be hurt by what he’d done to her, or if she’d need to avoid him for a few days while she healed.  
Agent Romanoff smiled to herself as she showered, thinking about the soldier’s morning stiffness as it dug into her hip only a few minutes ago. Once she toweled off and dried her scarlet hair, she attempted to cover up the finger-shaped bruises left on her neck. The makeup seemed to work well enough, although she found herself doting on each finger mark and wondering what else those strong fingers could be capable of doing to her body.  
Natasha caught her own gaze in the mirror and mentally scolded herself for being so infatuated with her thoughts of a fellow teammate. She pulled her dried, straight hair forward onto her shoulders to cover her neck and headed to the “home” office to get some work done.  
________________________  
“Hey Romanoff,” Tony Stark greeted her, “I heard you stepped out on some good milking chatter this morning. We could have had some fun with that!”  
Natasha shot a look at Banner who mouthed “sorry” at her and she rolled her eyes inwardly, “Tony, I’m sure you had that conversation with yourself long before you got out of bed. Does JARVIS narrate your hand for you yet?”  
“I’m looking for a female voice; maybe I’ll borrow yours.” Stark kept his eyes on his work and isolated her voice on playback to the office. He looked up at Natasha and smiled slyly. “Do you do accents?”  
“Pepper might have something to say about that,” Miss Pepper Potts chimed in as she entered the work area to drop off some files. Tony accepted his female-dominated defeat as Natasha settled in her chair, grateful for another female to have appeared in the tower.  
“So how’d you get Steve up this morning? He was pretty dead when I smacked his foot,” Banner asked. Natasha grinned.  
Tony snorted sarcastically and a little too loudly under his breath, “A lady never tells?”  
“She can be a lady when she wants,” declared Barton, entering the office with coffee, “You just have to convince her.” He grinned toothily at her.  
“I’m sure,” coughed Tony, trying not to shoot hot coffee out of his nose in a perverted laugh. Natasha collected her cup of coffee and returned to her chair without a word. Sometimes starting stuff was fun, sometimes ignoring it made it go away…  
“No comments, Romanoff? Nothing to add about how a lady goes about waking up a passed out super soldier and how milking fits in?”  
…and sometimes it didn’t because Tony Stark was Tony Stark and had trouble letting jokes end.  
“Lay off her, we had a rough morning.” Rogers walked down the stairs from the doorway, eyes shining heart-breaker blue, as always.  
“Oh, I’m sure you did!” Tony jabbed at the pair while Barton shot him a look of minor irritation.  
“Enough,” Steve seemed irked about everything the last few days, but this was clearly near the tipping point, “let’s get some work done today.”  
______________________  
Somewhere around two in the afternoon, the team broke for lunch, meaning Stark and Banner were going to spend the rest of the afternoon in the basement lab, Barton would go target practicing or something, and Rogers and herself usually hit the tower gym before eating dinner.  
“Coming Cap?” Natasha noticed he was still in his chair on her way out of the door, still staring intently at the same image on his screen he’d been staring at for two hours.  
“Yeah, in a minute, doing research.” Steve did not look away from the screen, a furrowed brow gracing his face.  
“Alright,” Natasha tapped the video record button on the wall panel before hitting the gym.  
___________________  
Agent Romanoff tried to punch, kick, flip and dodge all of her frustration out, sexual and otherwise. Four more-than-extremely-attractive men and herself lived in this tower and she needed a release. She mentally yelled at herself to stick to one guy. Barton was her partner. Barton. Partnership. Friendship. Closeness. An occasional episode of meaningless kissing. Nothing too serious but, BARTON DAMNIT! To be honest with herself, she was so ramped up lately, she was even starting to find Stark attractive through his playboy ego. STARK for crying out loud. She needed a mission, or a good challenge on the mat, or both.  
And when Rogers choked her this morning…what was wrong with her? She could not, would not, get involved with her team leader. He had feelings. He was a good guy. A great guy. And sensitive. Too perfect. And being involved with someone who would attach himself emotionally to her was unacceptable. She didn't want attachment; just a release.  
Natasha got the wind knocked out of her as one of her obstacles swung around and struck her in the gut. Her lack of focus hit her hard and she staggered to the sideline where she attempted to catch her breath. Frustrated with her failed attempt to prevent the pseudo-death threat, she fell to the ground, still trying to get some air into her lungs.  
“Tasha,” a low voice full of concern caught her by surprise which caused air to catch in her throat. This sent her into a coughing fit and to force herself down from her hands and knees into a recovery position on the mat as Steve shut down the rotating obstacles she had been battling. She could see Rogers, encased in a black fuzzy film that could only be her vision blurring through her lack of oxygen. Natasha attempted a wave, but settled for the finger flapping hello of a kindergartner.  
Steve uncapped his water bottle while she struggled to maintain consciousness and keep herself from vomiting. She was pulled upright and given a sip of water, which she forced down her throat as she held in her coughs.  
After a few minutes of too-close-for-her-comfort monitoring from her team Captain, she was able to force down longer sips, closer together. Her breathing slowly returned to normal though her heart rate didn't calm. He was too close. He smelled too good as well.  
“You shouldn't work out alone,” he chided her, concern in his voice. Natasha looked into his eyes, searching for an answer to her mild irritation. He had left her to work out alone. Was this a joke?  
“My gym buddy was working overtime.” Agent Romanoff scoffed and took a long pull of water to moisten her throat, looking past him.  
“Yeah, sorry.”  
Natasha nodded once and laid back down on the mat, hand on her stomach as she breathed deeply to help calm the spasm in her diaphragm. “Find what you were looking for at least?”  
“I bruised your neck pretty badly this morning, didn't I?” Rogers got on his knees and placed a hand on either side of her body, near her shoulders. He leaned over her body to look closer at where her makeup had run and her hair had worn it away during her workout.  
Natasha looked into his face, still struggling to get full control of her breath, wondering why he had so abruptly changed the subject. “It’s nothing.” The scent of Captain Rogers and his closeness was definitely not helping. His strong jaw was squared back to his thick, muscular neck and his brown/gold side burns framed his face quite well. The little bit of stubble on his face from his long night and late morning did not help her focus on her breath control any more. A slight puffiness under his eyes was noticeable, but it only made him seem more human.  
“I’m sorry.” He got closer to her face, his own drifting out of focus. Natasha’s stomach flip-flopped and her coughing fit threatened to flare up again. She held in the cough, hoping it would go away. The towel he’d had around his neck now wiped so gently against hers, removing the leftover makeup with which she’d hidden her bruises that morning. She understood he’d wanted to see the full extent of what he’d done in his unconscious state that morning, so she stayed still despite her rising level of discomfort.  
After several minutes of his face bobbing in and out of focus and the tender swabbing of her neck, he settled back into clear view and connected his eyes to hers.  
“Natasha.” The sudden silence-shattering word made her hold her breath. “I am truly, profoundly, sincerely… very sorry about unconsciously threatening your life through choking you this morning, and I hope you will allow me to get your juice every morning for the rest of eternity and help you with anything you could ever need.”  
Natasha took in his words and raised her face to kiss his cheek and give a raspy whisper in his ear, “Steve, tell me what’s got you so worked up and we’ll call it even.”  
“Not yet,” Steve whispered back to her, “Later.” He stood up and bent down to help her off the black mat.  
As Natasha left the gym, she wondered if it was possible for Steve to put his fist through the bag on right hook number one; he was going hard, apparently more upset than she had ever seen him.  
________________________________________________________________  
Natasha walked out of the bathroom after her second shower of the day, wrapped in a towel, exhausted from the gym fit she’d had earlier and still drenched for lack of care about her physical appearance at the moment. Her wet hair dripped down her chest and her muscular shoulders as she weaved her way down the hall to her room, curious as to what she would find on the footage of Rogers’ over time research.  
Turning a corner, Clint Barton literally bumped into her for the first time today. He’d made a habit of excuses for physical contact in their workplace, usually casual.  
“Oh, sorry Nat. You alright?” Barton gave her a look over, “Tony said the obstacle course got the best of you this afternoon.”  
“Tony says a lot of things.” Natasha wondered if Stark always stalked her via cameras and JARVIS. “I’m alright, just worn down,” a small, reassuring smile graced her face and she walked around Barton. Was everyone watching her now? She was glad audio in all rooms but the office had been disabled and locked by Banner a few weeks before. Tony didn't need to hear the conversations that went with those movements.  
Back in her room, and still in her towel, Natasha woke up her laptop and ran through footage by hacking into JARVIS. She was almost to the recording of Steve in the office that afternoon when she noticed a file of footage from her room, in live action. She got up, found the camera, got dressed in her closet, ripped the camera out of the wall and marched directly to Stark, who was in the kitchen with Banner and Barton, forgetting to cover her bruises or dry her hair.  
She chucked the camera at his head, Tony narrowly escaping the assault to his playboy face. “In my room?” She watched Banner’s reaction to see if he was guilty of this plot as well. She was pleased that he was not.  
“It was a joke,” Tony shrugged, “and Agent Romanoff, I do not appreciate assault from my team members.” His smug attitude didn’t always drive her to murderous thoughts, but today might end his life.  
Natasha folded her arms, “Explain yourself.”  
“Well, Natasha, if you must know, I wanted to talk to you about your impressive, star-spangled neck bruises and your canoodling with the Captain in the gym this afternoon.” She swore he was just trying to get her to kill him before dinner.  
“Tony, my neck bruises are my own and my business alone.” Spying Steve making his way down the hallway, Natasha wished she could have made a clever lie. What was wrong with her brain? Lies were easy, natural even. Why couldn't she come up with a simple lie?  
“Rough sex with Rogers on the couch, and in the gym. Where else, Miss Romanoff?” Tony raised his eyebrows toward Clint.  
Natasha turned to Barton and gave him a look that told her partner that she was done with Stark’s crap for the day.  
“I saw her making out with Rogers on the couch this morning. Look.” Tony played a clip of the top of Natasha’s head bobbing up and down over the top of the couch, which she immediately recognized as the moment she kissed Rogers’ nose to prevent herself from dying, but on loop. As usual, Tony took his joke too far.  
Clint shot Natasha a look of stunned curiosity as Steve walked into the kitchen, having heard all of this while he was standing in the hallway just outside the door. Stark’s smile immediately fell a bit and he stopped the clip. He was already on thin ice with Cap. Banner turned away to stir a pot of rice. Natasha made a weak attempt to smirk at Steve and his dominance in the room.  
Steve smiled toward the clip that was frozen on the screen. “Oh my darling,” he busted out a cheesy smile, “they've discovered our secret! We can’t hide it anymore!” He wrapped his elbow around her neck affectionately, making sure to be gentle with it and twirled her into him for the corniest display of the fakest make out ever. “What shall we do about it, my love?” He choked on the last word a little, but it didn't change the effect his low-toned, full, and eerily sexy voice had on her.  
Natasha stared into his clear blue eyes, not seeing the chill and mist that had been in them earlier today, as well as the last few days. “I don’t know, Cap,” she stated huskily, her throat still sore from her coughing fit earlier. She wasn't sure where Rogers was going with this, but it intrigued her and she was hoping her lines would fit into his impromptu joke.  
“We shall dance for them, Natalia.” Steve began to lead her in a waltz around the room while dinner was being finished. She shoved his use of her former name to the back of her mind for now. That could be discussed at another time.  
Steve dropped her off at her chair next to Clint before going to help bring the food to the table.  
“You and Rogers-“ Clint began softly to her.  
“Relax,” she cut him off, “it’s not that complicated.”  
“Except his hand around your throat…” he mumbled.  
Natasha raised a brow and her glass, mouthed “not here” to him behind the full cup, and took a drink. Barton took the hint and shut up. They were a team, even when the others invaded. They knew each other’s tells.  
Natasha had just taken a big bite of her burrito when Stark commented, “So how long have you two been sleeping together?” Everyone put their food down and looked at him. Steve had just taken a large bite of burrito too. “You and Romanoff.” Tony clarified to the Captain.  
Natasha sat back and casually eyed Clint, round to her right, and then Steve, round to her left. Thank the gods Clint knew her so well and picked up on her very subtle distress signal. Tony was pushing all her buttons in the wrong order today.  
“Tony, you’re making everyone uncomfortable. No sex-talk at the table. Let’s just enjoy our burritos, okay?” Barton scowled across the table and picked up his burrito again.  
“If Romanoff doesn't want sex-talk at the table, she shouldn't wear her wounds to dinner.” Stark gestured to her neck. Natasha cast her eyes down at her burrito, no longer hungry. Steve swallowed hard and looked slowly to Tony, meeting eyes with Banner as he turned his head to his left. His stormy eyes made Banner sit back and push his glasses up his nose, aware that this could blow up and he may need to leave.  
“Enough. Tony, it was an accident.”  
“Accidentally leaving-“ Tony tried to cut in, but Rogers plowed through his words.  
“Natasha woke me this morning, after I had a long and late night last night,” notes of remorse crept into his voice, “and I unconsciously attacked her, grabbing her throat. I’m not sure who I thought she was, what I was thinking, or where I thought I was, but Natasha was in real danger in my hands. She thought fast and got me to wake up however she felt she had to at the time. I’ve already apologized to her, but I feel you should be aware that I’m subconsciously fighting my demons so you are not also put in danger.” He looked down at his plate and sighed.  
Everyone was looking at Natasha now, but she had leaned forward to grab Cap’s hand, squeezing reassuringly that everything was going to be okay. She knew nightmares, she knew them all too well. He’d fight through his demons too, he was too good not to.  
“It seems you’ve spoiled the fun, Tony.” Dr. Banner toasted the air with his burrito and took a bite. Dinner ended in silence.

_____________________________  
“Movie tonight?” Banner tried to cut the tension in the room after dinner.  
“We can download a new one,” Tony smiled. Natasha nodded her head along with the others as they all finished the dishes.  
“Popcorn?” Steve was trying to lighten the mood even more. Natasha had noticed everyone was walking on eggshells around him this last week; apparently he was also aware of it. Everyone agreed as Tony headed out to download yet another list of unreleased films. After all, who was going to tell them “no”?  
_____________  
After the movie had ended, the team decided to head out to the balcony and look at the stars. The movie had kick-started Bruce’s memory that there was supposed to be a celestial viewing of Jupiter. As the group was stargazing, a spray of bullets rained down upon them. Natasha stood up from retrieving her ankle-piece and braced herself to fire at the air craft above the tower terrace. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Tony suiting up and that’s when she felt the world stand still. She felt the blood spurt from her bicep, thigh, and hip as the cluster of bullets hit her. She managed to pop off a few critical shots in reciprocation before she let her humanity sink in and the pain get through her Black Widow into her inner person. Agent Romanoff crumpled to the ground, feeling all the warmth and few good feelings she’d ever felt in her life. A warm embrace from Barton, a stolen kiss from Rogers, several smiles from Banner and a nod of approval from Tony. There were several others, long forgotten. Her vision blurred too far out of focus after she’d registered the sound of an arrow loose from its bow, but she was pretty sure the brightness was an explosion- hopefully a victory for her team- and even more hopefully, not a signal she’d left this world behind; she had too much unfinished business.  
Calm washed over her, rinsing away her rush of adrenaline. It was so bright, and yet, there was nothing. Natasha tried to summon an image of Barton, but she couldn't. She just needed to hear his voice and claim a warm, strong hug. The warmest gift she’d ever received. She was growing colder and it was gradually getting darker.  
Low mumbling strummed against Natasha’s ears. The rumbling grew closer and she could feel a warm, strong hand over hers. Her brain was still fuzzy but she could hear it now. It was a prayer. A prayer? As she struggled with her heavy eyelids to see the oratory assailant, she understood to whom the low voice belonged.  
Captain Rogers was praying for her. She forced an eye open, squinting the other tightly shut, as if that would help propel the other open somehow. It closed after a short second, but she kept trying. Rogers must have noticed; his prayer stilled and his breathing became irregular, maybe even hopeful.  
Natasha got her eyes to open long enough to see Steve’s smile. That was a wonderful sight after seeing absolutely nothing. Her eyes fell shut again and her head swam. A small moan escaped her throat.  
“It’s okay, Nat,” Captain Rogers stroked her fingers tenderly, “You’re just groggy. They gave you an arsenal of pain killers in your IV for surgery. You took a few bullets. Do you remember?”  
She tried to speak but her throat was too dry, so she nodded.  
“Water?” Steve held a straw to her lips which she parted almost immediately. She was glad he could be thoughtful. The ice water was as refreshing as finally getting to take a shower after a two week mission in the desert during a string of sand storms. The darkness behind her eyelids didn't bother her as much as the thirst.  
“Everyone is…” She couldn't form a coherent sentence just yet. Fantastic! She thought sarcastically to herself.  
“Everyone is alright,” he finished for her. “I took a bullet in my shoulder, Tony managed to suit up before getting hit, Banner hulked out and covered us all, and Clint took that plane down with ease. You knocked off most of the major artillery before you got taken out.” He resumed his seat after placing her water cup back on the tray and took her hand, his calloused ones were so warm to her cold ones.  
“Cold,” she shivered, regretting it instantly. His warm hands left her icy one as he went to get another blanket for her. She snuggled down into it. He kissed her forehead, mostly to check her temperature.  
“You did lose quite a bit of blood. I’ll let you get some rest.” The door handle turned.  
“Stay?” She didn't mean for it to sound like a child’s plea, but he returned to her side.  
“Of course.” He resumed holding her hand and she drifted off into a comfortable sleep.  
___________________________________________________________  
Natasha was blinded by the room lights on her second attempt to wake up. She quickly slammed her lids shut again and harrumphed.  
“Let’s try that again, shall we?” Agent Barton had a distinct, warm voice that always made her relax. He placed a hand over her eyes. Her eyelashes kissed his palm when she opened her eyes and a smile grew within her, remembering how ticklish his palms were. “3…” he parted two fingers slightly. “2…” he began to part the rest of the fingers from one another. “1…” He hovered over her eyes for a brief moment and pulled his hand away slowly so they could count to zero in their heads together. They always added zero silently, since their first mission together. “Tasha,” he popped his eyebrows up in a familiar greeting.  
“Agent Barton,” she stated sincerely.  
Clint scoffed at her humor and playfully and gently slugged her in the uninjured bicep. “How are you feeling?”  
“Well, my drugs wore off and I feel like I've been through a war zone,” she joked with her tone, but in all sincerity, she felt like hell.  
“At least you were on the winning side. You should see the other guys! Oh wait…” he made an explosion noise and demonstrated it with his hands.  
“You saved me?”  
“Oh, no. Banner saved you. You should have seen it, Nat. I took down the aircraft, but he covered you; wouldn't leave your side.”  
Agent Romanoff was surprised by that. “Now I owe three of the four of you a life debt…” She trailed off, uncomfortable with the thought.  
“Well, you don’t, but in your mind…” He blew out some air from his slightly puffed up cheeks. “At least it’s not Tony.”  
She smiled at their personal jokes shared at Tony’s expense. “How long have I been out then?”  
“Three days? Yeah, one for each bullet hole.” He gestured to her three zones of radiating pain and zones of intense gauze patching. “You've got a couple graze wounds, but just the three actual hits.”  
“Was I the target?”  
“Not sure if it was you or Cap honestly. You were next to each other and they were terrible marksmen. We might have lost both of you, had they had any formal training.”  
“That doesn't fit,” Natasha shook her head gently, “no training on a high tech Quinjet?”  
“Banner, Stark and Cap are investigating…we all are, but it was my turn to visit you. Steve didn't want you waking up alone.”  
She smiled inwardly. Steven Rogers was the most admirable and caring man she had ever met. Too bad she was who she was; they may have been something fantastic in another life. “Do you think he’d throw a fuss if I got up? I don’t want him to dance around me like some fragile newborn.”  
Hawkeye looked thoughtfully at her, and tapping a finger to his mouth, he replied, “You know, I think we've got a doctor around here somewhere that could clear you.” He smiled at her.  
She shook her head in silent laughter. “You are a sly one, Clint. Thanks.”  
Agent Barton had begun to walk out of the room when he abruptly turned back, “Oh, hey, Tash…” She turned her head to see what he wanted, and his mouth took hers by surprise. His strong hand gently cradled the back of her head as she relaxed into their intense kiss. It seemed to last forever when he finally pulled away.  
“Yes?” she asked, expectantly.  
Clint took a brief moment to compose himself, “Thanks for not dying.” He held her gaze before leaving.  
¬_________________  
“Natasha, your heart rate is a bit elevated.” Bruce scanned her with one of the various tools left behind when SHIELD fell.  
“Oh, sorry.” Agent Romanoff slowed her heart rate down to normal in several seconds. You can’t beat a lie detector test if you can’t learn to control your heart rate. And you can’t get an approval to be released from medical care without lying to Captain America. But you also can’t be in a room with a man who has tried to kill you before, after having just kissed your best friend the way Natasha had, without suffering a brief flutter or palpitation.  
“Color me impressed,” Banner smiled at her. Natasha smiled, pushing her nervousness at being alone with the Hulk’s alias deep down into her gut. “I have some pain medication for you here. You’re supposed to take them,” he looked at the directions, “no more than every twelve hours.” He looked up at her, but her gaze was on the bottle in his hand.  
Bruce handed her the bottle and removed the blood pressure cuff from her arm. “You’re all set Natasha. Take it easy for a while; your stitches are still healing. Although, you’re healing at a pretty accelerated –“  
“-Thanks.” She cut him off. He did not need to know the extent of her genetic modification. She was thankful for the speedy recoveries from injury and her resistance to ailments, but no one needed to know about what they did to her. No one. She didn't even want to know about all the enhancements they had forced onto her back in Russia.  
Natasha walked out of the medical pod and down the hall, leaving Dr. Banner with a very confused and semi-scathed look on his face. She softened her footsteps as she walked past the doorway to the living room, hoping not to be bothered on her way to her room. Oh, how she wanted to nap in a bed that wasn't lumpier than a field of clay after a missile strike.  
“Natasha,” Rogers whispered as he snuck up behind her. She froze. “It’s good to see you out of medical care.” She turned to him and noticed the bandage sticking out of the bottom of his right, light gray, short sleeved shirt. She nodded and stuffed her pill bottle into her hoodie pocket. “How’re you feeling?” She gestured for him to step behind the wall and out of the doorway with her finger. The small section of wall hid both of them successfully from view of the others in the living room.  
“I’m alright, Rogers. I see you’re still recovering as well.” She nodded toward the bandage on his bicep.  
“Ah,” he smirked at her attempt to take the attention off of her, “Yes.” Natasha glanced at the clock.  
“Would you assist me in cooking dinner, Cap? I’m thinking jambalaya.”  
“Sure.” He scratched the back of his head, “What’s jambalaya?” Natasha smiled.  
“You’re in for a real treat, Rogers.”  
¬¬__________  
Steve Rogers was pretty useless in the kitchen, as Natasha soon found out. She found it rather amusing that a soldier capable of stopping an entire army single-handedly was unable to cut green peppers and celery in uniform pieces. After she taught him how to cut vegetables neatly, she began cutting the meat for frying.  
Tony interrupted their peaceful rhythm to get a glass of water. “Agent Romanoff, canoodling with Captain Rogers in the kitchen, I see.” Natasha slammed her cleaver into the cutting board and turned to glare at him. “Right. Water and get out of your kitchen.” Tony filled his glass and left.  
Natasha turned back to the counter and stood tensely with her eyes closed, considering her overreaction.  
“Hurt your bicep?” Rogers asked, softly. Natasha was silent and continued cutting the chicken without a word. He turned back to vegetable duty and awaited further instructions.

Their meal was absolutely delicious.  
“Natasha,” Captain America was sweating from his forehead and nose, “you were correct when you said I was in for a treat. This is great.” He dabbed his face with the cloth napkin from his lap. Everyone around the table nodded in agreement, even Stark was too busy shoving food in his mouth to make a rude or smart assed comment.  
______________  
Back in her room, Natasha took her sweatshirt off and popped a pain killer. She really had hurt her arm when she chopped into the chicken with enough fury to deter Tony Stark from his teasing. He probably missed picking on her, sure. She could respect that, but he was just too god damned persistent and she had enjoyed her medical time without him too much. All she had wanted to do this evening was take a nap, but that face. Rogers always had this look on his face that made her want to spend more time with him. Stupid pure heart of his; it wasn't fair that he had that much influence on her.  
She lifted her bandages and looked at her arm in the mirror. Some blood was fresh; she really should have listened to Banner about taking it easy. She just couldn't help it; she was a doer. If things had to be done, she did them. Natasha Romanoff did not need help. Well, usually. Lately, she had to work as a team. Maybe that’s what was really bothering her.  
After pulling off her clothes and replacing her bandages, Natasha laid in bed, thankful for its comfort and for the room’s silence. She could not remember the last time complete silence had sounded so good. It normally left her with a sense of self-hatred for her past and a terrifying sense of desperation for what was to become of her future. She drifted off to sleep shortly after her head hit the pillow, but her slumber was not a peaceful one.

 

_____________  
Natasha’s eyes shot open. She had a bad case of the cold sweats and she was tangled in her bed sheet. She sat up and unwound her neck and chest from the moist navy fabric. Her damp skin in the air-conditioned room made her shiver as she freed her waist and legs from their entanglement. Natasha stood up and smoothed the sheet back down in its place before tucking the bottom edge under the mattress. She sat atop the made bed for some time breathing heavily before realizing she was shaking in small tremors all over her body, although she no longer felt cold. She fumbled in her dresser for some panties and a knee-length night shirt in the dark. She didn't trust Tony and his cameras enough to walk down the hall in the nude; he’d have too many questions about her scars.  
She walked into Clint’s room. He always left it open for her, whether he was home or not. Sometimes she just needed to smell him to feel better.  
“Earlier than usual,” he whispered as she stepped over the threshold. She thought she’d been silent, but Clint’s ears were almost as good as his eyes.  
“Yeah, injury makes me sleep earlier and much worse. I guess.” She didn't sound quite as okay as she’d hoped she would.  
Hawkeye flicked on a dim lamp near his sofa. “Tea?” He handed her a cup. She had just taken a sip when he asked, “So what dirty things have you and Cap been up to then?” The auburn-haired assassin succeeded in not choking on her warm beverage.  
“Is this white tea?” she asked, side-stepping his blunt question.  
“Yes, I find it soft and soothing, quite unlike Rogers’ grip on your throat. Seriously Tasha? The good couch?!” He smirked at her and sipped some tea.  
“Clint, you know he’s too clean cut and respectable for me; roll him in the mud a few times and watch a building fall on him, and he’s still too damn clean for me. I think he’s hiding something, but he keeps brushing me off.” She waited for his comment but he said nothing. Putting her empty cup on the coffee table, she turned to face him. “Bohze moi, you know what it is, don’t you?”  
“What? No.” Hawkeye held her penetrating gaze; bright green irises burning the air near his calm blues. “I was just wondering what it could be; you two seem close enough to share…”  
“Barton, I know nothing about him outside of his soldier mindset. I’m not even sure he has a personality under all that star-spangled crap. I know he knows nothing about me; not even my real birth date. Does he even have dirty thoughts? I mean, I know he can get ha—off topic. So what is he hiding? His dirty HYDRA porn he’s jacking to in the living room for Tony’s amusement? I shouldn't have to spy on my team captain.”  
“Yeah, he should tell you everything, just like you do for him,” Clint finished, sarcastically and crawled into bed, eyeing Natasha as she grew silent in realization.  
Natasha, defeated for now, cuddled into bed next to Clint. He was almost always her source of solace when her spider crawled its way out of her depths like it had done in her nightmare tonight. He draped an arm around her, lazily securing her to his chest.  
Agent Barton changed the conversation mood to a more serious one. “She’s been getting to you a lot lately, huh? You've been coming to my room a lot more.”  
Natasha didn't show any signs of registering his inquiry. She was too focused on trying to keep her mind locked up as the darkness weaved its way around. Her breathing remained calm and Clint seemed to acknowledge her death-like stillness; she was trying to avoid the Black Widow. He stayed motionless with her, hoping like she was that the deadly arachnid would find nothing of interest and descend into her lair where Natasha could seal her up again. Romanoff was getting good at ignoring her and refocusing. Their conversations seemed to help; after forty minutes of talking about anything, Natasha usually relaxed. “Yeah, I can’t seem to control her lately,” she finally replied.  
Clint and she had taken to calling her dark memories, the ones that terrorized her in her sleep, the Black Widow, her alias. The horrid memories are what she thought about when she had to kill. Nothing special- no uncontrolled emotion; it was all just very calculated hatred. Sometimes, when she wasn't on regular missions, her creature was difficult to control. With SHIELD out of her touch, Natasha had many fewer missions these days, but the Black Widow still had the itch to kill.  
“Well, I’m sure there’s a solution.”  
“I need a mission,” Natasha determined almost instantaneously.  
“You’re still healing from your wounds.” There was tenderness and care in his firm tone. It sounded like Steve had rubbed off on him.  
“Clint.” Natasha argued flatly.  
“You need a lesson, not a mission. We have our very own ‘rage monster’ in house to help you; ask Banner.”  
Natasha eyed Clint. His use of Stark’s terminology, air-quoted or not, was offensive. Was Clint comparing her to the Hulk? A tear trickled down her cheek, followed promptly by another. Before she even realized what was happening, a whirlwind of emotions burst from her tear ducts, stinging her eyes with their long-forgotten saltiness. Clint’s azure eyes grew wide with surprise. “Tasha, what’s wrong? This is so out of character for you.”  
Agent Romanoff collected herself, writing the temporary lapse off as pain-killer side-effects. When her silent tears stopped falling, Barton handed her a box of facial tissues to clean herself up. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose, making sure she got the dirty tissues disposed of correctly in his far-too-complicated trash can. She could never bother to remember which button did what any way. “Barton,” she sincerely addressed him. “I have a mission for you.”  
“Oh yeah?” He tried to hold in a laugh but a part of it escaped with his words. “What’s that?”  
“Shag Agent Romanoff like a wild animal, help her release all of her tensions,” she tried to sound like Fury in her command.  
“Tash…”  
“Clint, hear me out. I need the adrenaline, the rush of endorphins, the moment where my brain can think of absolutely nothing but one perfect moment.” She stared into his eyes. Even in the dark of night, she could see the pity in his eyes for the brief second it made an appearance.  
“Natasha,” he always used her full first name in serious situations. “Natasha,” he repeated, seemingly grasping for words with which to reply. He sighed heavily, “I’m not going to do that.” He grabbed her arm as she moved to get out of his bed. She knew rejection, but it had never come at the words of Clint Barton before. “Wait,” he commanded, sternly but gently. She settled back down in her spot, facing him. His hand was still grasping her bicep firmly. “I’m not going to do that because I love you. You know that. You are my best friend, Tasha.” He paused and looked into her eyes. Natasha’s emerald orbs searched his blue ones for answers, urging him to continue his explanation. “You’re looking for a quick fix when you need a permanent solution. You should talk to Bruce. I know you don’t like opening up to new people, but Tash, he’s a team mate. We’re all in this together. You, me, Cap, Bruce, Tony and Thor…we’re not always in the same place, at the same time, nor are we always on the same page, but we’re a team.” He emphasized ‘team’. She tried to understand.  
“But I need to get sleep, tonight. Please?” Natasha put on her pouty face, a manipulative skill she had learned to use on strong men like Clint. “Just tonight. I’ll talk to Banner tomorrow, ok?”  
Hawkeye hesitated. He knew what she was doing; he’d watched her manipulate hundreds of men on missions. “Promise?”  
She looked at him, caught slightly off guard, cursing his loophole. She could never, would never, break a promise made to Clint. “I, Natasha Romanoff, best friend of Clint Barton, promise that tomorrow,” she eyed him, knowing he needed all the specifics from her so she couldn’t wiggle out of it, “Thursday, July 24th, 2014 at 4 o’clock in the evening, eastern standard time, in the Avengers tower in which we, the Avengers, currently reside, will approach Dr. Bruce Banner, alias the Hulk, and verbally ask him to help me with my stress management techniques, so that I can better control my emotions for the sake of my Avengers teammates and myself, including any missions we may undertake together.” She drew a much needed breath while Clint nodded, approving her pledge.  
“Your turn.”  
“I promise to help you fall asleep and clear your mind. I will not allow myself to sleep until I am sure that you are sleeping soundly.”  
Natasha leaned in to kiss him; he wrapped her in his strong arms, deepening their kiss. She ran his fingers through his hair and he laid her down in his bed.  
Clint Barton fulfilled his promise that night.  
¬¬¬¬____

“You cheated,” she said as her mind registered Clint’s bright eyes looking into hers. Her dreams had been peaceful ones. He smiled, a smile that reached his brilliant blue eyes. Her favorite smile. The smile that pinched his eyes shut ever so slightly; the one that raised his hairline, eyebrows and ears just a tiny bit. It was the first smile that ever pierced her dark heart and melted the evil at her core.  
“I didn't.” He touched a light kiss to her nose. “I cleared your mind, allowed you to fall asleep, and only slept once I knew you were safely cradled in your dreams.”  
“Clint, you knew I wanted raunchy, hot sex.”  
“But you needed love.”  
“Love is for children.” She retorted the phrase coldly, as if it were programmed into her brain. It made Clint smile.  
“Welcome back, Agent Romanoff.”  
She paused and realized what had happened. He had fixed her emotional dam. Smiling, she replied, “Barton.” Her eyebrow raise was one of wit and she smirked at him. “You win this round.” She collected her long shirt from his bedroom floor.  
Clint could not help but gaze at her backside as she bent over to get it. Natasha knew him too well and kept watch, teasing him gently when she caught him out of the corner of her eye. “You had your chance, archer.” His gaze moved to her amused eyes. “Where’d you learn to give massages like that anyway?” She continued putting on her shirt and pulling it back down to her thighs.  
“Banner.” He looked at her with insistence that she go talk to Banner and learn his ways too.  
“Oh, so we BOTH enjoy a man’s touch,” she taunted and winked on her way to the hall.  
“Nat!” She closed the door on what probably would have been Barton’s retort, smiling to herself. Clint could always get her to smile.

 

Natasha knocked on Dr. Banner’s room door around four o’clock in the afternoon.  
“Hey, Natasha,” Bruce ran a hand through his hair nervously. “Can I help you?”  
“I…can I talk to you a moment?” Natasha talked to his mouth instead of his eyes.  
“Uh, yeah, sure,” Bruce opened his door for her and welcomed her in with a smooth hand gesture. “Just let me clean up a bit.” Natasha stood on the area rug near his coffee table as he swept up some loose papers, binders, and his tablet. “Sorry, just doing some quick research.”  
“Right, sure.” Natasha looked around the room and flicked her gaze onto him, cautiously scanning for escape routes.  
“Still don’t trust me?” Banner inquired with a devilish smirk.  
“You’ll have to excuse my skepticism, Dr. Banner, the last time we were really alone together, you definitely tried to kill me. That kind of thing usually stays with a person.”  
“It’s Bruce,” he welcomed the familiarity, “and it seems the other guy has taken a liking to you.” Banner initiated JARVIS footage from the night she and Cap were shot. After Natasha had collapsed, Hulk stood over her body, protecting her from any further damage, and taking whatever artillery fire was still operating after she’d shot their key operators. Once the segment ended with Stark carrying her inside the building, Natasha had realized her team cared about her more than she’d originally thought. Rogers and Barton had ripped pool towels and wrapped the strips around her to help slow her bleeding before they moved her, Stark had used his Iron Man suit to lower her body temperature, and the big green monster stared out into the skies, waiting for another attack. He occasionally glanced toward Natasha, seemingly out of concern.  
Agent Romanoff lowered herself into an armchair, not even thinking to ask if it was okay to make herself at home in his room. “I owe you.” Her words were solemn. The same words she’d spoken to Rogers when he pulled her out of a collapsed building; the same words she’d spoken to Barton all those years ago.  
“You don’t owe me anything. We’re in this together, a team. I’ll get your back if you get mine, ya know?” He took a seat across from her.  
“But I came here to ask you for h-“ she had almost said it. The one word she was taught never to say; to never ask for in regards to her person. Natasha stood up promptly and hurried toward the door.  
“Help? To control the darkness festering inside of you?” Banner spoke with the grotesque emotion Natasha hid from the world. She turned to face him, hand on the door handle behind her back, intrigued with his description. Her green eyes urged him to continue. “…That part of you that is constantly trying to fight its way to your exterior. The part that feels like it could swallow you whole, and sometimes, for the briefest of moments, you consider letting it take over because it would just be easier than fighting back.”  
“But I can’t…”  
“Because there’s something there, something that keeps you wanting to be human, to have feelings. But it drives you absolutely nuts!”  
“And when I try to figure it out-“  
“-The darkness creeps out and just about destroys you, but the thing stops it?” Bruce looked at her intensely.  
Natasha made wide-eye contact with him. It wasn't a look of terror, but rather a look of realization that he knew what she was feeling. A look of surprise that anyone could relate to her on a truly intimate level. “Yeah.” Her tongue felt dry, like she’d spent all day breathing heavily through a mouthful of cotton balls.  
“I've been trying to control the darkness so I can find the thing, the thing that makes me human.”  
“Wouldn't that just be humanity?” Natasha put her emotionless mask back on.  
“What is humanity? I mean, where does it originate?” Bruce didn't have all the answers yet, but maybe he could figure them out with Natasha.  
Natasha’s hand fell from the door handle as she decided to stay and ponder what humanity consisted of until dinner, with her second greatest fear sitting beside her. Her first fear being the darkness looming inside her.

 

After a dinner of potato-flaked cod with a fresh arugula salad, Natasha and Bruce snagged a bottle of wine and went back to his room to resume their conversational musings about the darkness and their humanity, or lack there-of.  
Natasha was not used to talking this openly about her deadly spider that crawled its way into her life at the most inconvenient times. She told Bruce about her recent struggles and he taught her the ways he calmed “the other guy”. He explained how he thought each case was unique, but although she did not undergo physical transformation and become unrecognizable, her frame of mentality changed just as his did. She was not a mutation in the conventional sense, but she had been turned into a weapon and “improved”.  
Neither wanted to end their conversation as night grew darker and the wine bottle ran drier. How was it possible to have such a great time with a man who once tried to kill her? Wait, Barton had once tried to kill her. He was her best friend. Could Banner become a good friend too?  
____  
Natasha awoke in a bed, not unlike her own, and gazed about the room. Bruce had good taste; nothing was too dark or too light. There were clean lines, no clutter was apparent aside from notebooks and some loose papers. She rolled over, toward the other side of the bed. It was empty. Natasha wondered when she had fallen asleep. She perused her memory of the night before as she gazed out the tower’s windowed wall. The door latch clicked. Natasha rolled over to look at Bruce.  
“Coffee?” He held up her usual jumbo-sized Starbucks cup.  
She sat up and eagerly took the cup from him, taking a long, relaxing pull. “You’re a lifesaver,” she only half-joked.  
He smiled. “Figured you could use it after you passed out on me last night.” She tilted her head questioningly towards him, eyebrows furrowed. “I was showing you corpse pose and then you were gone,” he chuckled. “I was too tired to take you to your room, so I tucked you in my bed and slept on the couch, in case you kill in your sleep…” he trailed off, a teasing tone in his voice.  
“We had one bottle of wine, how did I-?”  
“I assume painkillers?” He had given them to her when she was released from the medical care unit.  
“Damn.” She took a drink of coffee. “I’m sorry.”  
“Apology accepted. I confess, I did change your bandages after you passed out.”  
“See anything you like?” Natasha held her coffee away from her face so he could see her flirty smirk and inquiring eyebrow raise.  
“Oh. Uh. Yes. I always like to see my patients making progress in their healing.” Bruce tried to hide a blush. She took another swig, wondering what Tony had told him about her.  
“You’re a very beautiful woman, Natasha,” he added, she figured he’d said it to soften the blow to her ego. “And I can assure you, I was almost a perfect gentleman.” He winked at her over his coffee cup. Natasha smiled to herself. Flirting with Banner would be another amusing point in her life; maybe even more fun than it was with Cap. “I shouldn't have let you drink so much,” he added after a few more luxurious gulps of his coffee. “How’s your liver?”  
“Russian,” she smirked and got up, tucking his sheets back down and smoothing them flat. “Sorry I stole your bed.” She headed out the door and paused on the way out, “…and I've never sleep-killed before, for your future reference.” She winked saucily at him and exited his peaceful, sunlit room.

“Agent Romanoff,” Stark was in the hall, presumably on his way to the office.  
“Stark.” She was in no mood to be picked on by Tony this morning. She had finally been in a good mood for the first time in a long time.  
“How are you feeling?” He was being a normal, courteous, team member for once.  
“Not too bad. A little…” she hesitated, trying not to say ‘stiff and sore’ to instigate an irritating episode of teasing. “Well, I’m recovering.” Stark smiled. Of course he’d made it a perverted joke.  
“I am glad you’re doing well. Between you and me,” he dropped his voice to a low whisper, “the tower is testosterone driven enough. We need you.” He paused, “for balance.” Natasha studied him, unblinking, pondering his attitude and what he was up to. “Contrary to your belief, Natasha, I actually do appreciate your existence.” Their eyes met. He was being sincere, she knew. Very few people knew how to hide secrets during eye contact. “Right, so, see you in the lab.” He walked into Banner’s room, leaving her to stand, confused, in the hallway.  
She thought she had Stark figured out. Perhaps she was wrong. Maybe this was the side Pepper got to see; she didn't hate it. Natasha swept down the hall to her room to get changed. Examining her wounds and re-bandaging them, she determined it was another tank-top-and-hoodie day. It allowed her the least amount of pressure on her sore spots. Yoga pants would have to do for her leg injury again, as the mere thought of jeans hurt a bit too much. She wondered why she was healing slower than usual and if Cap was having a similar problem with his shoulder. Thankful that she was flexible, she put her hair into a ponytail with minimal amounts of pain. Her shower would have to wait; she was already running late. 

In the common office, Barton and Banner shared a side of the room while Romanoff joined Rogers on the other side. Tony stood in the middle, already talking. Natasha internally rolled her eyes, Stark had his moments, but they were few and far between. He could have waited; then again, she admitted to herself that she could have been on time.  
“While we’re still not sure if Romanoff and Rogers were targeted specifically, we can say it was HYDRA or SHIELD affiliated due to the Quinjet technology and the cloaking capability. The bullets injured you both; and although you can be injured, Dr. Banner and I have discussed that you should both be healed or nearly healed by now due to your genetic modifications.” The soldier and the spy glanced at one another as Stark continued, “We are looking further at the bullet material composition and for any traces of dissolvable encapsulation or coating.”  
“Wait, if these attackers were SHIELD or HYDRA trained, they should have had better aim.”  
“Hold your horses, Stars and Stripes, I’m getting to that. Judging from appearance,” Stark flashed JARVIS security footage stills on a hologram screen between all of them, “we’ve theorized that these were not fully trained operatives. Furthering this postulation-“  
“Whoever it is, they’re still recruiting and training and didn't want to lose an officer. It was a suicide mission,” Natasha blurted out, stoically.  
“And we’re all their targets,” Rogers glumly added.  
“Right. So if you’ll let me finish,” Tony threw a little attitude in their direction and paused for apologies that never came. “We need to solve this one quickly because after they take you two out, they’ll figure out how to take down rage monster and thunder princess. Barton and I…we’re the least protected.”  
Everyone nodded in a silent break of meeting. Natasha decided to scour the balcony for more bullets; maybe she’d find a casing or two if she was lucky.

Natasha turned on her inner spy and exited the glass paneled doors to the Avenger Tower balcony. She stood on the ground where she’d been shot at and turned toward the sky where the jet would have hovered. Pacing toward the edge of the tower, she scanned the ground. Natasha assumed the team had gone over the building with a fine-toothed comb while she was recovering from her wounds, but another check could never hurt where lives were involved. She breathed deeply and looked over the edge of the tower. About twelve feet below her, she could make out a shape on the ledge to the next level down the tower; it looked like a bullet shell. She tried to figure out how she was going to get it without the flying Iron Man’s help, vaguely aware of approaching footfalls.  
“Barton, do you think these chemicals, from the bullets, are why I’m losing control?” His gait gave him away. Natasha knew the sounds of Clint’s walk by heart. She looked at him.  
“Mentally?” He stared at her for confirmation. Her green eyes blazed. “Nah, I think your world fell with SHIELD. You've blown all your covers and you didn't have a strong back up plan; and now you don’t trust even yourself. You’re doubting your ability to lock up the Black Widow; and you’re second-guessing or denying any one else’s ability to help you.” He shot a specialized grapple hook arrowhead into the ledge of the building and proceeded to repel down a length of wire-enforced rope to the ledge below. “We care the most about you, Tash, so…” he climbed up with the bullet casing in a plastic sandwich bag, “let us help you.” She took the baggie from his hand and lifted him up with her good arm; bracing her foot on the building’s ledge for leverage.  
Barton got very close to Romanoff and held her uninjured bicep in his hand firmly. He stared into her eyes, piercing her core with his misty blues. “You’re going to be okay. I’m not going to stop going until I know that. I promise.” The assassins stood together in a moment where time stood still. Natasha leaned in and pecked Clint gently on his cheek.  
“Thanks,” she turned away, holding up the plastic bag with the bullet casing. “Gotta get this to the lab.”  
“Yeah.” She heard Barton confirm.  
_______  
“I’ve ordered out; I hope we’re all good with pizza. I got twenty of them, so even Mr. Stomach Rogers here can eat his fill. Metabolic mutant,” Stark declared. “They don’t deliver by drone yet, so we had to get it the old-fashioned way.” Steve laughed; elevators were not as old-fashioned as stairs. “No mockba for Romanoff; you’ll have to survive with good ol’ warm pizza.”  
Natasha cringed at the thought of a cold, four-fish and onion pizza. “Give me anything without pineapple or anchovies and I’m good to go. Any buffalo wings?” She had a small problem with buffalo wings, she loved them.  
“Um, not this time. I’ll have JARVIS add a note for next time,” Tony stated, adding some plates from the kitchen cupboard and set them on the counter next to the boxes as Steve and Clint laid out the pizzas.  
“Of course, sir,” JARVIS stated. His record-keeping skills were impeccable. Each tower resident chose a plate of pizza. Beer was always a welcome accompaniment to pizza night. They bickered over which game to play. Ultimately, they decided not to play a board game because all their favorite games were either too aggressive for a bunch of drinking heroes, like Monopoly, or only accommodated 4 players. After realizing she was the only person not still eating after an hour, Natasha resigned to take a shower and allow the boys to play some four-player shoot ‘em up game on whatever gaming system they chose.  
____  
In the bathroom, Natasha checked her bandages in the mirror for open areas in the tape while the water was warming up. She was still sore, and paranoid that there was something on those bullets and shells that would harm her internally. Hopefully the lab would come up with the answers and an antidote or something would be able to be developed from the data.  
Pushing those thoughts out of her head, she stepped into the water and closed the shower door. Her thoughts drifted to Captain Rogers. He was a victim with her, still sporting a bandage on his arm. His healing was usually faster than hers; the fact he still hadn’t healed concerned Natasha. Aside from their common injuries, Rogers was a good man. Perhaps too good to be associated with her, but she was glad for his company. Steve always grounded her and inspired her to be a stronger person. Sure she liked to poke fun at him; sexually, he was so inexperienced that it was simultaneously border-lining cute and heartbreaking. She loved pushing him when flirting to the point of blushing. The pink in his cheeks would really offset the blue of his eyes. She laughed to herself.  
She rinsed the soap from her hair and slicked it up with extra moisturizing conditioner for her curls. She smiled and thought of Barton and the time they had to use hair conditioner to ease through a vent shaft on a mission. Barton was her constant reminder that she was no longer a mindless killing machine. He was her support system; her best friend. He constantly reminded her that she was worth more than she ever thought possible; he could bring her back up from the bottom and keep her smiling. She wore a necklace with an arrow to remind herself that he would always believe in her and so should she, especially when he wasn't there to remind her in person.  
The warm water relaxed her tense muscles and she exfoliated her face with a gentle pumice scrub. The scrub reminded her of Stark. He always was a little abrasive toward her, but they didn't exactly get off on the right foot. Having been sent to spy on him for the Avengers Initiative way back when, Tony never trusted her. He was always poking fun at her or ignoring her entirely. Deep down though, he was a pretty helpful ally and a decent guy…really deep down.  
On the other hand, there was Banner. He was unsure of himself and yet completely intelligent. He had a strong moral compass. Natasha and he shared an opinion on the darkness within themselves; it was a strong bond. It was their common ground. Natasha wanted to spend more time with Bruce. Not only did she find him stimulating, she found him striking. His methods to suppressing his internal darkness were incredibly helpful to containing her own darkness. It might just be intrigue; but she definitely wanted to follow this stirring, this attraction. Maybe they could be something more. They could be the perfect pair of monsters, learning how to help one another.  
Natasha rinsed her hair and the residual soap off her body. The steam had cleared her head and the heat had soothed her pain. She shut off the water and grabbed her towels. Once her hair and body were wrapped in their towels, Natasha took off down the hall to her room to change her bandages and go to bed.  
_______  
After lying in bed for several hours, she could not clear her mind of potential toxins in her blood. Her wounds were healing so slowly, she wondered if this was what non-enhanced people really felt like. She wondered if she was having a panic attack. She needed to talk to Barton.  
The spy crept out of bed and put a t-shirt and some gym shorts on and exited her room. Natasha crept down the hall to Clint’s room. She pushed on the handle to enter, as usual, but it didn't budge. Feeling betrayed, she examined the door. Barton never locked his door; he knew she needed him to sleep at night more often than not. Was he pushing her away? Of course he was; he’d told her she needed to confront her problems. She didn't have to think too long or hard to know that. She’d gone to see Banner, to learn his ways, but it didn't make a difference. Right now, she just couldn't sleep. Their talks at night were her point of sanity. Natasha sauntered down the hall past Cap’s room, wondering if a late-night movie in the living room would help.  
She stopped and back-tracked; she wasn't sure why, but something told her to stop by Rogers’ room. Natasha stood in front of his door for some time in the darkness, not sure what this feeling was, or why she had it.  
Finally, she touched her knuckles to the door, hesitating a knock. The door popped ajar and Captain Rogers poked his head out into the hallway. Upon resting his eyes on Romanoff, he opened the door inward.  
“Natasha, is everything alright?”  
“Did I wake you?” She hadn't knocked but she supposed she could have hit a hollow in his solid…steel…door…? That couldn't be it. Nope.  
“Nah. I don’t sleep much. Come in?” he offered.  
“Clint’s not here?”  
“Oh, yeah. Mission with Stark, I think.” He was wearing a white, fitted crew neck tee shirt that showed every rippling muscle in his upper body, and dark blue lounge pants, which only served to make his abs look even better. Everything about Steven Rogers could make a woman turn into a hot-and-bothered, walking arousal. Damn. Women were lucky Rogers was a respectable man, although Natasha was pretty sure no woman would object to that charm. Especially if it was pressed against her thigh… She wished he wasn't so kind-hearted and naïve. “…Tea?” Natasha looked up, having missed everything he’d said up to this point, she faked a clogged ear and glossed over the issue.  
“Sorry, what was that?”  
“Oh, I asked if you’d like any tea to calm you. I've got green and white tea.” He held up the boxes after flicking on the electric kettle he’d probably wished he’d had in the twenties and thirties. Unless they didn't drink tea back then…?  
“Uh, sure. Thanks. Green would be nice.” What was up with all these men and their damned tea?! Vodka was much more relaxing, and it led to more fun…  
Natasha stared at a point on the floor, willing her dirty thoughts away. She wondered why he was such a weak point for her. He didn’t have anything Barton didn't have, except that sun-kissed hair and a moral code that would be a terrible challenge. She loved a good challenge. It was then that she realized Rogers was talking again. “Hmm?” she tilted her head to the side in a questioning gaze.  
“I asked if you’d like to have a seat,” he gestured to a couch and two chairs. They came standard in each room, she guessed. Barton had them; Banner had them; Cap had them. She’d even had them before she pushed them out into the hall and set up a punching bag in their place. Whoever entered her room was there for one reason, and that was not to involve sitting. Agent Romanoff did not entertain anyone; she was no longer a performer. Her room was hers alone.  
Natasha sat on the smooth leather chair, across from the couch that Cap was standing near. Its obscure color only made her want to entwine her fingers in his sandy hair. He handed her a mug of green tea. They were both awkwardly silent, until Rogers got too uncomfortable with it.  
“I took your advice. I've been seeing Sharon.” He took a sip of tea.  
“Yeah? Give me the juicy details?” she smiled sweetly at him. The last question sounded more like a gentle command. Rogers hesitated.  
“Natasha, we don’t know much about each other and I,” he paused, “I don’t feel comfortable sharing everything, even though I don’t want to be rude.”  
“Of course. I understand.” Natasha put her cup to her mouth, mocking a sip, but really just trying to make Rogers feel guilty and spill the beans.  
“But I also feel like you should know…” He leaned forward and held his head in his hands, heaving a breath. “I’m just going to plow through it. Don’t interrupt and don’t repeat it. Understand?” Natasha gave a curt nod of comprehension. “I like Sharon; she’s so thoughtful and kind. She’s flirty and funny, just like Peggy. I've gone on six dates with her, but I can only see Peggy in her eyes. It’s like dancing with my best girl, but it’s this other woman. A woman related to the love of my heart, who reminds me, everyday, that Peggy has passed on. Everything was increased in me with the Super Soldier Serum. Loyalty, Faith, Heroism, Humility, Agility, Flexibility, Strength, Smarts and… Love. Love. I was already in love with Peggy before I was transformed. I don’t know if I can ever not be in love with her ever again. Sharon brings back all the memories I have of Red Skull and war, of losing Bucky and of Peggy and the way I had to leave her. I have nightmares about all of that. They’re so vivid; I can’t sleep, Natasha. If I sleep, I see all of it. I won’t sleep. I had a hard time sleeping before because I was afraid I’d end up in another time that I’d never understand. And now I just get so angry, Nat. I choked you the other morning in my sleep because all I could feel was the hatred, the horror of all those memories. I got home from a date and resolved to stay awake. I read. I stargazed. I even watched some crazy show on the television I didn't understand. And I did that in the living room in hopes the paranoia of being out in the open, by myself, would keep me awake. But I failed in that. I hurt you. You suffered by my hand and then you suffered humiliation at the hands of Tony. That’s not acceptable. And because of all that, I had to explain to Sharon that I can no longer see her, although I care for her deeply, because I’m afraid of what I will do if I keep feeling all those feelings.”  
Natasha drank in all his words and all of the information he just shared about himself. He’d never shared that much with her before. “Rogers, I think you need a meditation lesson with Dr. Banner. To find your inner peace. Then, maybe you could try again.”  
“Not with Sharon,” Rogers’ reply sounded more like a question than a full blown statement. Natasha was sure he still had feelings for Sharon, quite separate from those he had once had for Peggy.  
“I’ll start looking again,” she smiled to him, subtly.  
“Always you with my personal life.” Captain America couldn't help but smile at her persistence. He breathed in some steam from his tea cup. “So, you and Banner have been getting close, huh?”  
“Yeah, we’re a good match, intellectually and otherwise. And we probably won’t kill each other anytime soon.” She cocked any eyebrow and looked thoughtfully toward the ceiling. There were glow-in-the dark constellations arranged up there, and they were all pretty accurately placed as well, she noted.

The two were quiet for some time, reflecting on one another and regarding each other with respect and courtesy.  
“Natasha, when were you born again?”  
“Nineteen Eighty Four,” she stated without hesitation, cradling her warm tea cup in both hands. He met her eyes and she knew, on contact, that he was aware that she was lying. She just didn't know how he’d figured it out. She had erased that part of herself, buried it so deep it would never be found by anyone. Apparently he’d found it. He had called her Natalia at dinner the other night; had he known then? After a long while of staring at one another, Natasha broke eye contact and put her room temperature cup of tea on the coffee table between them. She could turn and run out of his room right now, but she didn't want to break the trust he had tried to build with her. He’d just shared so much of his life with her and they may end up as partners on a mission again someday. She couldn't burn this bridge, not with Cap. She liked Rogers. She was attracted to him. She might even love him. Her subconscious spat at her the phrase that was burned into her brain since childhood – Love is for children. “Nineteen Twenty Eight?” Her voice sounded strained and dry as she forced the year out of her mouth. She wasn't even sure when her birthday was; the Red Room was all she could remember. She shuddered at the thought of the Red Room.  
His brow furrowed. Natasha detected the hurt in his eyes as he swallowed; his mouth dry with truth as well. “So, when I confided in you that it was difficult to find someone with shared life experience before, you lied to me?”  
“No.” She reflected on the conversation, “I told you to make something up.”  
“What? Like you?” He realized he had said that last time once Natasha pressed her lips together in a thin line. He looked away from her and mumbled, “The truth is a matter of circumstances; it isn't all things, to all people, all the time. And neither are you…”  
“It’s a tough way to live,” she nearly quoted him from this previous conversation. Testing his anger level with her, she moved to his side and sat next to him, placing a hand on his knee.  
“Why?” he asked, dumb-founded at what had just occurred between them. “We could have shared so much.” He angled himself to face her, causing her hand to slip to the inside of his knee.  
“I couldn't share. I wouldn't let you compromise your mission. We had a lot in common, but it may mostly have been due to circumstance. We’re independent, you and me, and we had to rely on each other to finish the mission. I am an agent first, and your ‘friend’ after that. Sometimes, they overlap.” She leaned in, putting some weight on his knee and searching his face, hoping he’d look at her.  
“Are we friends?” He cut the question at her aggressively; emphasizing ‘are’ and criticizing her air quote of friend.  
Natasha thought, carefully choosing her words. She did not want Rogers to be upset with her. She enjoyed their playful banter too much. “I’m not sure,” she paused to bite her lip, an uncertain gesture ill-befitting her character, “You wanted a friend back then. I’m trying.”  
Captain Rogers digested her words. “We could have been more.” He looked at her. She smiled with sadness visible in her eyes. She’d never shown so much emotion to Rogers before, but he needed to understand. She withdrew her hand from his inner knee, sliding it gently toward her lap.  
“You deserve so much better than me, Steve.” His eyes grew wider in surprise at her intimate use of his first name. “I've got so much red in my ledger; and I think, with your extensive research on me, you now know what that truly means.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, there you have it. Natasha is not a "whore" or "slut", but a complex individual who balances her basic needs by exploring relationships with her Avenger tower roommates.
> 
> Let me know what you think, and I apologize if some characters seemed OOC.


End file.
